Listening
by Centroides
Summary: As Chief continues his education he knows listening in on others' conversations is wrong, or is it?
1. Chapter 1

A Lesson in Manners

Chapter 1

"That last piece was real sad. Is there a story behind it?" Gouyen had told the young boy that the Apache sang songs about battles and warriors victories and deaths. This one had to be about a death. The two men had made their way through the crowd and now stood out on the walkway around the Royal Albert Hall enjoying the Intermission.

"Not that I am aware of," said Actor warming to the subject. "The piece is called 'Violin Concerto in E Minor' and was written by Felix Mendelssohn."

"How do you know so much about music and stuff? Did you go to school to study it?" The young man was carefully watching the crowd as the last of the stragglers emerged from the door. Actor had led them far enough away so they could talk.

"I picked it up as I went along. It impresses the ladies," he added with a smile. He had also checked the program.

"I hope the Warden don't expect me to learn all this stuff," he answered sadly. "I appreciate you takin' me but I'll never remember all the names an all."

"What do you mean?" The older man was clearly confused.

"I know the Warden tol' you to teach me this stuff but…"

"I will have you know," he began sternly before he stopped and nodded to a young lady who was approaching. His face had morphed from stern to pleased.

"Are you enjoying tonight's performance?" She was definitely English upper class.

"Oh yes. The London Symphony is one of my favorites. And you?"

"Yes. I come as often as I can. There is just something about a live performance that radio just cannot match." She turned to Chief and asked, "Don't you agree?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You are American," she crowed, delighted in her discovery. "My name is Jessica Landers," and she held out her hand.

Chief was flustered. What was he supposed to do? She obviously didn't know who or what he was. The Italian's words came back to him; 'No one knows you here.' He couldn't kiss her hand like Actor did so he took the offering and gave it a single shake before releasing it.

Wanting to spare the young man Actor said, "My name is Victor De Luca," and he took her hand with a smile and bowed over it before releasing her.

Blushing like a school girl she finally found her voice. "Are you staying in London? Though it may be dangerous, we have many fine hotels here in town." Then she added hopefully, "I can recommend one if you need."

"Our business keeps us on the move but right now we are staying with our associates outside of London."

"You are not American," she said with a coy smile as she moved in closer.

"No ma'am." There was not a lot of warmth in his tone.

"I have a private box, if you would like to join me?"

"That is very kind of you but we are sitting with friends." Seeing her peering around for these friends he added, "Mrs. Gravenhurst is elderly and has trouble walking." Silently he apologized to the older but not elderly lady who occupied the seat next to Chief.

"Oh, that is too bad." She seemed to lose interest in the pair. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the performance."

She began to move away so Actor said, "Thank you, you too."

Once she was out of earshot the taller man said, "Getting back to … the Lieutenant." He had almost said Warden but a few people had drifted closer. "He has never instructed me to teach you anything other than what pertains to our business." He watched to see if this was accepted but the young man refused to meet his eyes. Changing tact he asked gently, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case he had to take me someplace. He wouldn't want to be embarrassed by a stupid …" He almost said dog but remembered that he had agreed not to use that word so he said, "Guardian."

The pause was not lost on Actor. He was pleased that he remembered. "I assume you are a typical Guardian and you are not stupid, under educated, yes, but not stupid. What grade did you complete in school?"

"I a'know," and he shrugged. With a quick look to see no one was close enough to hear he mumbled, "Three or two."

"If you had been able to attend all the way to twelve like Casino, you would be just as smart as he is. I would wager you learned a lot of things out of school."

"Like what?"

"For example, how to fix automobiles, how to survive in the wilderness. Goniff tells of the mission to rescue Garrison's friend where you were able to lead them right to the hidden cache. You know wood lore such as how to build a shelter, how to catch, skin and cook a rabbit."

"I had to. If I didn't I would a starved some times."

"And so would we," he said with a smile. That earned him a quick glance and a smile.

"We best head back inside." The two men made their way back to their seats and waited for the house lights to go down.

Weeks later Actor went to see the Warden in his office.

"I can get two tickets to a musical. Would you like to take Chief?"

"No, that's all right. You go ahead." Assuming that was all he picked up his pen again.

"Let me rephrase that," he paused eyes on the man on the other side of the desk, a stern look on his face. "I can get two tickets; I strongly suggest you take Chief."

That stopped the Lieutenant. He blinked before tilting his head in confusion.

"Chief thinks you **ordered** me to educate him."

"I hope you set him straight. Other than the reading,… I didn't even ask you to do that did I?"

"Whether you did or not is not important. It is what he thinks."

"And by my taking him, you think it will set him straight?" He did not sound averse to going.

"Either take him to the musical or some other event you are going to attend. He thinks I am to educate him so he will not embarrass you."

"When's the musical?"

It was a week later and Chief was coming out of the shower. It always felt good to be clean. Being hosed off in a cement cell, week after week, was not the same. He ran his fingers through his hair after wrapping the towel around his waist. Was his hair too long? Maybe he should have got it cut so he would look good for his Hearth. He had polished his shoes last night and his suit was hung near his bed. Garrison had promised dinner before so he didn't have to worry about that. He would be ready.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The waiter led them to their table. With Garrison in his dress uniform and Chief in his suit and tie, they drew more than a few eyes, mostly female. Chief had hoped for a table along the side so he could sit with his back to the wall; he felt safer that way but no such luck. The table was out in the center. He waited for Garrison to sit before pulling out the chair to his left. That still left his back vulnerable but he could see the door. He swept the area behind him before sitting down.

Garrison picked up the menu so he did the same. When he was with Actor he had read out some of the items and he had found them on the menu. He was getting better at figuring out what stuff was but there was always the chance he would make a mess of it. It didn't look like his Hearth was going to make any suggestions so he peered at the list. Maybe he could just say he'd have the same. What if he told Chief to order first? Maybe he could say he hadn't made up his mind. This could turn out real bad.

Starting at the top he tried to make out the words. Some he had no idea even when he sounded them out. They had to be French. Next word. Then he looked to the price. What if he ordered something too expensive? Damned, this was a bad idea. There were so many ways he was going to screw up and embarrass his Hearth.

Scanning down the price list he looked for the cheapest. A salad, would that be enough? What if he ordered that and Garrison ordered a full meal? By now his stomach was churning. Much more and he wasn't going to be able to eat anyway.

"See anything you like?" asked his Hearth without looking up.

Leaning in slightly he whispered, "What does appetizers mean?

"Those are things you can order to eat while you are waiting for your meal. They are usually shared," he replied equally quietly.

"So that's like h'orderves?"

"Yes. The meals are on the next page."

He didn't sound angry but just in case he wanted to apologize but a waiter walked past. He looked at the list. There was one with chicken and potatoes. If he had to go first he would ask for that. Silently he repeated the name several times. He didn't want to mess this up any more than he had.

"I see they have filet mignon."

Chief looked for it on the list. It sounded French so he had no idea what it was. He would stick to the chicken.

"I haven't had that in a long time."

Had Actor told him about that? He wasn't sure if he had or if he had eaten it. Best stick with the chicken.

"Have you had filet mignon before?" Garrison was watching him and waiting for a reply.

"I a'know," he said quietly not lifting his eyes. All he could do was hope no one heard him.

"Unless you see something you prefer, shall I order two?"

"Sure." He tried to say it with confidence but wondered if he looked as miserable as he felt. Fearing all eyes were on him he kept his eyes on the table. This was why Guardians knelt on the floor.

The sound of Garrison's voice reached him but it wasn't until he felt the touch of his arm against his that he pulled back. He had almost gone out. How much worse could it get? Glancing over he saw that Garrison wanted the menu so he handed it over. The waiter took it away.

"Are you all right Chief? You seem …"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He was not fine. He didn't belong here. He belonged on the floor, back at their base. He wanted out but that would embarrass his Hearth.

"Relax. Just pretend we're back in our dining room. No difference."

He didn't sound upset. Instead the words were calming and the arm against his was helping to slow his pounding heart. He complied with the suggestion to take a deep breath and it helped. Another and he began to feel better. Maybe he could do this.

As they waited he began to look around. The couple at the table in front of him were middle aged. She was telling her husband about a phone call from Edna. She was relating several stories about the children, Betty, Matthew and Violet. The table to the left was occupied by two gentlemen, one of which was talking about his car. To the right was a young man in uniform who looked to be trying to woo the young lady. They looked too young to be married. This was confirmed when he pulled out a small box. Chief looked away. That was never going to happen to him. Guardians did not get the girl and they didn't marry.

Without turning he listened to the voices behind him. At first it was just a babble of voices but as he concentrated he heard a closer voice.

"Actor tells me you have completed another step in your latest project."

What? What project? Confused he pulled his attention back to the man at the table where he sat. "Pardon?" He almost said 'what' but Actor had been teaching him the proper words to use.

Leaning in a little closer he said, "I hear you finished another book."

"Oh, yeah, I mean… yes."

"That's good." He sounded pleased. "And how did it go? Any trouble?"

"No. Well maybe a little but I figured it out."

"You know if you need it, the guys said they would help."

Chief noticed he didn't offer but then that wasn't a … Hearth's job was it?

"And you know I'll help too. I'm not always here but when I am, you just let me know. All right?"

His Hearth cared. That eased the tightness in his chest even more when he heard his next words.

"I'm proud of what you've accomplished, the way you've stuck to it, the progress you've made. I'm proud of you."

This Hearth's words sounded awkward but then he realized that Garrison was as uncomfortable as he was. Or was he uncomfortable because he was here? Was he making his Hearth uncomfortable? It was always the Guardian's fault.

Lowering his voice he said, "I'm sorry." Garrison was probably realizing why you didn't bring dogs to fancy restaurants.

"No Chief. Don't be sorry. I'm just not good at small talk." Garrison gave him a quick smile before his eyes flicked around the room as he removed his arm breaking the contact.

Warmth flooded the Guardian's chest as he realized his Hearth was as uncomfortable as he was but he was not the reason. The reason was his concern that they might be overheard. Even their use of their nicknames could draw attention. Chief and Actor were obviously not real names but they would catch a person's ear.

It was going to be all right, at least he thought it was until he heard the sound of a sob. Both men looked up to see the young woman sitting turned in her chair. At her feet the young man had just slipped the ring on her finger. There were smiles on the patron's faces around them. There were even some tears of happiness.

"Maybe someday?" suggested Chief, looking to his Hearth. He put a smile on his face though the thought of his Hearth getting married broke his heart. No woman wanted a dog in the house. He would be sent back to G-CAT.

"Not as long as the war continues. It wouldn't be fair. That young man will go off to war, get killed and she'll be a widow. It's not fair to her. I couldn't do that to a woman I cared about."

At least Chief had a chance but he realized he was being selfish. War meant death and destruction, widows and orphans. He had no right to happiness with so many suffering. He turned his head away afraid his Hearth would see the sadness he knew he could not hide.

" _So you know what you're supposed to do?"_

" _Yeah. But what if he doesn't show?"_

Another innocent conversation at a table behind them but it was not enough to distract him from the pain. You're assuming he'll want to keep you after the war's over said the voice in his head, the voice that sounded like one of the Trainers. Another blow to his gut. Of course not. He'll go back to doing whatever Army Officers do and he would go back to G-CAT for retraining or worse… The pain that caused almost blocked out the words that followed.

" _Churchill always goes."_

" _Watch it. You talk about me blabbing"_

" _Shut up! He'll be there. You remember when to take the shot?"_

" _Yes."_ He sounded exasperated. _"We've been all over this."_

" _Just be sure you don't miss."_

Chief tried to put the words together. 'Churchill'… 'take the shot'… 'don't miss'. Was someone planning to shoot the Prime Minister? Sure there were other people by that name but why would someone want to kill them? It had to be the Prime Minister. But when? And where?

"Warden?" he said quietly. He probably should have said Lieutenant but he was too worried. The server arrived with their meals so he waited. Once he left Chief leaned in over his plate pretending to smell the food and said, "I just heard two guys talkin'." He then recounted the conversation and added, "You think they're plannin' to kill Churchill?"

Garrison glanced over his shoulder but there were too many possibilities. "You see who was talking?"

"No. Just somebody behind me."

"If you moved to the chair across from me. You might be able to see. Go to the men's room and I'll move your plate. Maybe stop and tie your shoe near where you think they are. You might hear more."

Chief popped a carrot into his mouth as he stood up and headed for the back of the restaurant. Hopefully no one would wonder why he was taking the long way around. As he passed he listened but they weren't the voices he had hear. He tried to see where there were just two men at a table who weren't talking. There to the left, that had to be them. Two men in dark suits were sitting across from each other. The one man looked over at Chief and he immediately looked away.

Stopping in the Men's Room long enough to wash his hands he returned to their table and took his new seat. Neither of the men had spoken as he passed their table. Did they know he heard them? Did they know he was a Guardian? No they couldn't. Both Garrison and Actor had told him no one knew him here. It had to be the guys had nothing to say.

Chief described the location and description of the men he suspected he had heard. As he finished a third man arrived and sat down. From his breast pocket he pulled out an envelope and handed it to one of the other men. He opened it and pulled out two tickets. From Chief's new vantage point he could just make out what the tickets looked like but not a time or date.

"Kin I see what our tickets look like?" It was a long shot but he had nothing else.

"You think they're for tonight's performance?" Garrison asked as he pulled out their tickets and laid them on the table.

"Yeah. They look the same but it could be for a different night. I couldn't see what was written on'em." He paused before adding, "What're we gonna do?"

"All we can do is follow them and try to stop them."

"Can't you warn Churchill? If he doesn't go, he won't die."

"We won't be believed. They'll think we're a couple of crack pots."

"Kin we stop the shooter from getting' in. Maybe we could put the snatch on'im."

"That's too risky. We'd have to get ahead of them and get a car. With just the two of us, it's too risky and before you say it," and he smiled to take the sting out, "There's no time to get the others here on time. There's less than two hours before the curtain goes up. The shooter will want to be in position before that."

The Guardian considered his next move. Could he do it? Could he do it to save a man's life? His Hearth, he would crawl on his knees all the way to save him, but for a stranger, who was leading his country against an enemy he could not afford to lose to? He had to do it.

"Maybe if you tol' them how you heard it?"

Garrison turned his full attention on his companion. "If you told them it would be more believable."

His gut clenched. His Hearth was dragging him into it. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I ain't supposed to be in here. He could feel the panic rising.

"We're part of a covert team. Churchill is in favour of commandos. I've trained you to act like a real person in case we need you to." Then his face lost its confidence. "You realize you would have to act the part …"

Chief knew why he was upset and he had good reason for it. His Hearth had told him that he would never make him kneel and he would never use the hated commands. He was going to have to break his word and that was not something he did easily.

Chief didn't want his Hearth to feel bad so he offered, "This is different." He could see he wasn't understood so he added, "I'd be doin' it to save the guy's life."

Now he understood but that didn't mean he liked it. "If there was some other way…"

"I know."

"Eat some of the steak, while I get the cheque. We have to go. No idea how long it'll take to get through to someone in authority.

This was the second time he had recounted the details of what they had heard and yes he was not wearing the collar because he was training to be out in public like they were behind enemy lines. All through this Chief had remained kneeling with his eyes glued to the floor. Garrison knew he was uncomfortable but there was nothing he could do. The under-under secretary or whoever he was listened intently before asking, "How do I know that he is a real Guardian. He does not have the collar or the uniform. He could be anyone."

Garrison knew this was coming. "Go out in the hall and whisper something." The man looked skeptical but did as requested. Going through the motions he placed a hand on Chief's head and commanded, "Guardian listen, in the hall." After stopping at the door to turning to see what the two were doing the Englishman stepped past the door and out of sight. A moment later he returned with a doubtful look as he eyed the kneeler.

"Guardian, report."

The Guardian lifted his head but not his eyes and said, "This was their finest hour."

The Brit was surprised and pleased. "How far away can he do this?"

"That isn't important right now. We need to get this message to the Prime Minister before he leaves for the theatre."

"How do you know where he is going?" He was back to being suspicious.

"The conversation my Guardian overheard, he said Churchill would be there. Their tickets were the same as ours. Now, if he is not going then I apologize for the intrusion and wasting your time, but if he is then I cannot stand idly by and let this happen." The clock was ticking. Was he already on his way? Was he already in his private box in the cross hairs of the assassin's sights? Garrison wanted to check his watch but feared how it might look.

"Wait here," and he left.

How long were they to wait this time? Was there time to let Chief stand to ease his legs? There was no carpet where they were instructed to wait. On the other side of the room there was but even then it was thin.

"You all right?" he asked quietly. A barely perceptible nod was his answer. H was staying in character. The man's knees were going to be sore, necessitating a long soak in a hot tub tonight.

Another man appeared at the door and asked, "Are you armed Lieutenant?"

"No."

"What about him?"

"He is unarmed as well."

"I will have to check just to be sure," He approached Garrison and began to pat him down.

Seeing where this was going the Officer ordered his Guardian to stand. When he was satisfied both were not a danger he told Garrison to follow him and bring his Guardian as well.

This new room was richly furnished and smelled of expensive cigar smoke. An older man, in his fifties, tall and broad shouldered sat on the edge of the desk watching them enter. He said nothing as Chief knelt at Garrison's heel.

"My name is Peterson and I have been told you have information for the Prime Minister."

Garrison wondered how many more people he would have to get past before they got to someone with the authority to act. Did they still have time? He was going to have to impress on this man, the limited time frame.

"Yes, but there may be little time left. Each delay …"

"Tell me what you have and I will relay it directly." The highly educated voice held more than a trace of steel.

"Yes, sir. My Guardian and I were having dinner when he heard two men…"

"Can he not talk?"

"Yes sir."

"Stand up young man. What do you have to tell me?"

Garrison nodded when Chief looked up to him seeking permission. He stood slowly.

Garrison watched as his Guardian related what he had heard, all while, like a good little Guardian, he kept his eyes on the floor. Guardians did not look real people in the eye like equals. Even though he knew it was all part of the charade, it irritated him. He could also see Chief's tension.

When he finished talking there was a moment of silence. Then when the secretary or body guard, whatever he was, stood the floor creaked and he saw the slight flinch that got past his Guardians control. Even though he had been told to talk, he expected to be hit. Even then Chief did not look up. The man was incredibly controlled.

"So Left tenant, what do you suggest?" The man was watching him, appraising, waiting for his suggestion.

"Because the gunman could be anywhere, I strongly suggest the Prime Minister either stay home tonight or take another box and sit near the back. Have your men stationed around the theater.

"A hand gun, to be accurate, would have to be close. In the seats he would have trouble escaping so I doubt that would be the route they'll take. If the gunman has a rifle he will need to be concealed maybe in the rafters. He could be anywhere. Once the people begin to enter he'll be watching for his target so your men can begin their search.

"Seeing as we're the only ones who have seen these men, I suggest we remain in the theatre to identify them once they have been apprehended."

Peterson pursed his lips. "And why do you not include yourselves among the searchers? You claim to be able to identify these men."

"Because at this point you don't trust us. In your opinion we could be the gunmen seeking entry to the rafters. We could have a gun hidden there ready to use."

Peterson's face relaxed and he said, "Very good Left tenant.

"If I know the Prime Minister, and I do, he could not send men into battle knowing they will die and then run and hide from a possible assassin's bullet. He will insist on going ahead with his plans, sitting where he usually sits. You will have to catch these men before they can carry out their evil plan."

Now he did look at his watch. "I, we", and he looked to Chief, "cannot take that chance. If he's already hidden in the rafters, we'll never find him, not in time." Didn't he understand? He might understand the Prime Minister but he was going to die. Then a horrible thought struck him. What if he was on the plot?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I will speak to Mr. Churchill and give him your recommendations. I will also speak to the Director. There will be a one hour delay before the doors to the theatre open during which time you and your Guardian will be given full access to the building. Is there anything else you need?"

Peterson had to be a body guard or the head of security of some kind. He had clout. Garrison looked to Chief who returned the look with a worried one of his own.

"Weapons, preferably .45 automatics."

"Come with me."

All they could do was assume the gunman was not back stage where the actors, actresses and stage hands were using the extra hour to prepare. Some had not been happy but when the directive comes from the Prime Minister's Office, one did not argue.

Now the two men stood at the back of the private box directly above the target box. No point warning the gun man if he was in position already. Garrison placed his hand on his Guardian's shoulder and began to speak softly, his voice anchoring the young man.

"Listen to my voice, feel my hand. Now reach out, open your hearing to the far sounds. Someone else is here. Not back stage but out in front of you. Someone is here waiting or maybe getting into position. Listen for him."

Garrison watched as his Guardian's eyes probed the seating area opposite them then up to the level where the large stage lights were positioned. He knew he was asking a lot of the young man but they had to find the gunman and the clock was ticking. He felt the shift that told him the Guardian was working. Now was the dangerous part. Listening that far could cause him to get lost. A sudden loud noise could deafen him too. The idea was for him to get a general idea, a general area where someone might be, so he waited as long as he thought necessary and then began to call him back.

"Chief, listen to my voice. You need to come back now." As he talked he gently massaged the muscles under his hand until he heard the sharp intake of breath. He was back.

"Were you able to get anything?"

"I think so, maybe." As they backed out of the box he added, "It might'a bin a rat." Whatever it was they would check it out. Circling the theatre so as not to expose themselves to the gunman's sights they made their way to the other side and began to climb up to the second tier of seats. Garrison let Chief take the lead. At the first landing he stepped out into the aisle. From here a gunman had a clear shot at his target but there would be a lot of people around. Chief stood still turning only his head. Garrison waited then stepped back out of the way when he turned and headed back up the stairs. Silently they climbed to the next landing where the procedure was repeated except this time he tilted his head back. Had he heard something up above?

There was no access up from here so they had to descend to the ground floor. As he suspected access to the lighting catwalk was from back stage. Up they climbed. As they neared the top Chief slowed listening at each step. Just before he cleared the top he stopped. He was listening far and Garrison, a step below, had no way to get close enough to anchor him except to touch his leg. Did he need that? Would it just startle him? They had never encountered a situation like this. He was contemplating his next move when Chief moved up a step. Relieved, he waited until his Guardian had moved up a second step. He was moving slowly but he was moving. When his eyes had cleared the top step he saw Chief crouched down a step away. He was looking far and probably listening as well so he waited. One false move, a sudden noise could not only betray their position if someone was here but it would deafen Chief.

Maintaining his crouch Chief began to move down the catwalk so he climbed up and followed until Chief stopped again. The catwalk ran the length of the theatre with arms out to the edge where the lights were hanging. Each was pointed at a particular spot on the stage and would be worked by a technician. In the dim light a quick look among the girders and cables and wires they appeared to be alone. Chief seemed to be concentrating ahead and to the right. It was hard to see but there might be something or somebody lying along the catwalk out by the edge. Chief pulled his weapon from the back of his waistband. Both men had been issued 45 caliber Automatic Pistols. They had been offered a Welrod Assassin's Pistol but the extended barrel would be cumbersome.

Carefully the pair inched along, stopping often to listen. Without notice Chief lay down on the cat walk and brought his weapon into position. With nothing to support his arm or use to brace himself this was going to be a difficult shot. He was only going to get one crack at this so he had to be sure. Carefully he aimed then slowly pushed himself up onto his elbow, extended his arm and fired.

Over on the next arm of the scaffolding there was a flurry of motion then down below a clatter broke the silence. Garrison jumped to his feet and ran back to the main catwalk, swung on the corner support and ran on. On the next arm a figure was running too. He missed the corner support and Garrison was on him, tackling and taking him down. There was a brief struggle and then with a crack of a gun butt against a skull it was over. Chief came up behind him as he turned the suspect over. He was one of the men from the restaurant.

"You know this did not happen," said Peterson as he watched the barely conscious man being carried away. "It cannot be made public that Mr. Churchill has enemies here at home."

"I understand." Garrison knew that his Guardian was even more anxious to stay out of the public eye.

"But he would like me to pass along his gratitude. You will receive a commendation to be put in your file for Services Above and Beyond to the British Empire. No details shall be given. Those will be classified but the commendation will be signed by the Prime Minister himself. Your Guardian will be mentioned as well. I assume he has a name or a designation but I will get that later, along with your full name, rank and serial number." The two men shook hands before Peterson did the same with Chief. "I will be in touch." He turned and walked away.

As the two men watched him go, Garrison thought about how unfair it was. He got a commendation and Chief, who did all the work, got a footnote in his file. Probably best not put anything in the G-CAT file but he sure could write it up and put in Chief's Army file. Unless… Damn. What if G-CAT got a hold of it? He couldn't even do that. There had to be some way to thank him.

A buzzing of conversation alerted them to their surroundings. The doors had been opened and the ticket holders were entering the theatre.

"We've got about thirty minutes before the curtain goes up. Would you like to find our seats or maybe get a little fresh air before we sit down?"

Chief looked up to where they had captured the would-be assassin. "Had a pretty good view from up there," and he smiled.

Garrison realized he would probably prefer to sit up there, away from the crowd and why not. He had earned it. The Officer was about to say, 'if you want,' but did not have a chance.

"Seats are softer down here," and this time he grinned. Looking toward the doorway to the stairs where a few men and women were beginning to come in, they headed down and outside. Knowing Actor would have bought aisle seats it was going to be easier if they sat down after everyone else.

"Did you enjoy the show?" asked the conman the next morning. "I see you stayed in London overnight. Were the trains not running?"

"We," and he looked to Chief who was taking his suit jacket off, "enjoyed the show but the before and after show were a lot more exciting."

That got the Italian's attention and he stopped suddenly in the middle of the kitchen.

"You two just getting in?" asked Casino as he entered the room and detoured past the conman.

"Bit late, don't you think," said Goniff as he pushed into the room as well. "We dock your pay the way you do to Casino when 'e's late?"

Garrison was feeling good; tired but good. He was also feeling good about being ahead of the three cons who seemed to delight in having one over him. Just to prolong the feeling he told Chief to get changed if he wanted, that he would get breakfast started. Three pairs of eyes followed him around the kitchen as he put the coffee on.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?" said Actor casually.

"Immensely. Any eggs?"

"In the back there," answered Casino, indication the icebox, as he pulled the loaf from the breadbox and began slicing it.

Breakfast was almost ready when Chief returned. After he sat down and the food was served Garrison related the details of their adventure from the overheard conversation to the eventual talk with the Prime Minister's personal body guard.

"You got to meet Mr. Churchill?" said Goniff, his eyes the size of saucers.

"Nah, just his body guard," put in Chief.

"But you got to be in 'is Office even if 'e wasn't there."

"It might have been Mr. Peterson's," said Garrison

"Somebody smoked a cigar in there," put in Chief. He said it casually but was there a hint of a smile there?

The Officer went on to explain how they had gone to the theatre and Chief had tracked the gunman down using his abilities. If no one else was going to know what he had done then he was going to make sure his team knew of Chief's contribution.

"After all that excitement, did you get to see the show?" asked Actor.

"Yeah," said Chief without a lot of enthusiasm.

"Not real exciting after catching a real live traitor in a gun fight, huh Babe."

"An anticlimax," explained Actor.

"No, it was good," explained Chief, trying to show his appreciation of Actor's gift.

"Anticlimax means it was not the highlight of the night. Something else, in this case, the hunt for a potential killer and the capture was more exciting than the play."

"Yeah," said Chief with a smile.

"So why were you late getting back. The play wasn't that long, was it?" asked Casino as he took his plate to the counter.

"After the show Peterson asked us to come back and identify the second suspect. They had picked up a man who they thought was involved."

"And was 'e?"

"Yes. He was the second man at the restaurant. We also stayed for the interrogation."

"What about the third guy, the one with the tickets?"

"Nothing yet but we gave them a description."

"You get a reward?" asked Goniff.

"No."

"Even after all you done? You saved 'is life and they didn't even…"

"Warden gets a commendation in his file." Chief was just stating a fact. There was no bitterness.

"What about Chiefy? 'E's the one 'oo 'eard the plot and shot the guy before 'e could kill Churchill. 'E deserves something."

"Yes, he does," put in the Officer.

"Well if the bleedin' government won't give 'im nothin' then we will. What'a ya say mates?"

Chief kept his head down embarrassed by the attention.

Three days later a new picture appeared on the dining room wall. Inside the frame was an official looking paper thanking the Guardian, named Chief, for providing a service, at great personal risk, to the British Empire. It was signed by Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Actor was either very persuasive or he had taken on a new career as a forger.


End file.
